Namesake
by onceuponajollyroger
Summary: Emma and Killian give their new son a special name. Over the years, Killian discovers just how well the name suits him. Captain Swan Fluff.


When they found out their child would be a boy, Killian was overwhelmed. He had been terribly nervous during the first months of Emma's pregnancy, and he was still in shock over becoming a father. After three hundred years of pursuing revenge, he never in his wildest dreams imagined that he would find such happiness. He had lived a life riddled with tragedy and death; surely creating life wasn't in the cards for him. But there they sat staring at what the doctor called a "sonogram" of their baby boy still growing in Emma's belly. There in that moment Killian's child, _his son_, finally felt real. This was happening. In just a few more months, no time at all after living for centuries, he'd be responsible for the wellbeing of a small, completely dependent little person. The thought terrified him, but it also filled him with newfound excitement and purpose.

When he held his son in his arms for the first time, he was fearful. What if he couldn't hold him properly with his fake hand? What if he couldn't figure out how to soothe him when he cried? What if Killian wasn't a good father? He stole himself away from the doubts plaguing his mind to stare down at his son; Killian's breath immediately hitched in his throat. This little lad, _his little lad_, was the most beautiful creature Killian had ever laid eyes on. He had a small tuft of dark hair atop his tiny head, and he had bright, sky blue eyes.

"He has your eyes," Emma said tiredly as she gazed lovingly at her husband and son. Gods she was brilliant, _marvelous_, he thought. She had brought this new life into the world, into his world. She was such a tough lass, his Emma.

Killian looked down at his boy again and shook his head. "No, he doesn't." It was an easy mistake to make, but Killian knew better. He had seen those eyes before and not in a mirror.

"He has Liam's eyes," Killian said sniffling as he fought to keep his composure. He thought he'd never see those eyes again: eyes that were always full of pride, love, care, but here they were staring up at him, a promise of a new, happy beginning.

"Then that's what we'll call him: Liam. Liam David Jones. Do you like it?" she asked with her head titled to the side, an understanding smile on her face.

Killian beamed down at his boy, pride radiating off the new father. "I think it suits him quite well."

* * *

A few years passed, and as all parents do, Emma and Killian struggled through it all with smiles on their faces and joy in their hearts. They stayed up long hours trying to figure out why little Liam was crying. They changed endless amounts of diapers. _An ungodly amount_, Killian would claim. They chased after him worriedly when he started to crawl. They _ran_ after him in terror when he finally learned to walk. The dark hair he was born with faded into golden blond just like his mother's, but to Killian's relief, Liam's sea blue eyes remained.

A few years later on a father and son outing at the park, Killian was reminded again of his brother. Liam was five years old and had just learned to ride his bike without training wheels. "I'm going to ride all the way to the other side of the park all by myself! Watch me, Daddy!" he exclaimed as a toothy grin spread across his face.

Maybe it was the natural light, maybe Liam was just starting to grow into his face, Killian couldn't be sure, but he barely heard the words his son said. He was staring speechlessly at the lad's face; he had one dimple on his right cheek just like his uncle. Somehow Killian had never noticed the feature before now. Killian used to tease Liam about his dimple, saying people were supposed to have two if they had them at all and that it made him look childlike when he smiled. Liam would just roll his eyes and argue, "Well, at least I don't look like a child all the time like you, _little_ brother." Killian missed that dimple.

"Daddy, are you watching?" little Liam cried, his brows furrowed as he tried to get his father's attention.

Killian shook his head as his son's voice pulled him from his memory. "Yes lad, yes. I'm watching."

* * *

One Christmas Eve, six year old Liam walked in on a conversation between his brother and uncle. "Be careful about what you say, Neal. Liam still believes Santa Claus is real," Henry said in a hushed whisper. Upset, Liam rushed off to tell his parents what he had overheard. Emma groaned. She wasn't happy with Henry at all; Liam was her baby, and she wanted him to believe in childhood fantasies for as long as possible. Emma and Killian went about assuring Liam that Santa Claus was indeed real and that his brother and uncle just didn't believe, that they thought parents left the presents.

"And eat the cookies?" he asked in a voice that was far more accusatory than inquisitive.

"Yes, some people claim parents eat the cookies too," Emma responded. Actually, if Killian was being honest, eating Santa's cookies was one of the greatest perks of being a father at Christmas, but he played along with Emma quite adamantly.

Liam stayed quite for a few moments, looking back and forth between his parents before finally speaking up. "I'll prove Henry and Neal wrong, so they'll believe too. Just you wait. "

That night, Liam stayed out in the living room hidden behind the couch as he kept a stealthy, or so he thought, eye on the chimney, waiting for Old Saint Nick to make an appearance. Emma and Killian sat up in there room doing some last minute wrapping. Killian despised wrapping presents. _How the blazes was he supposed to wrap a bloody soccer ball? There, he stuck a bow on it; that would be good enough._ Every now and then, Emma and Killian would take turns tiptoeing into the living room to see if their son had finally fallen asleep. At last, just after three o'clock in the morning, Killian walked out to find a snoozing Liam lying on the rug behind the couch.

Emma came out to join him looking sadly down at their son. "I guess he had to find out someday. I just wanted to keep the excitement for as long as possible," she said. She didn't get to tell Henry about Santa Claus; she wanted the experience with Liam.

Killian huffed with amusement at his son. He bent down to pick the lad up, holding him in his arms and resting his head against his shoulder. "Stubborn, just like his uncle," he said as he pressed a kiss against his son's blond hair. He shot his wife an understanding smile before continuing, "Don't worry, Emma, we'll tell him Santa came just after he fell asleep and said to tell Henry to stuff his gob."

Emma laughed before following Killian to Liam's bedroom to tuck him into bed.

* * *

Liam loved the soccer ball he received for Christmas and ended up practicing his soccer skills all spring with the help of Henry and Neal. That fall, when Liam was finally old enough, Emma and Killian signed their athletic son up to play on a team. There were only two soccer teams in Storybrooke considering the small size of the sleepy town, so the teams typically played against each other every weekend. After just a season of playing, Liam had truly picked up on the sport. By the time he was seven, he was the unofficial team captain. This game, Liam's team was down by a goal with time running out. Liam ushered his teammates into a huddle to give a few commands. Killian just stared in awe as his son rallied up the players, encouraging them, instructing them, and leading them. With his hand gestures and his authoritative, but calm nature, the team was obviously quite willing to listen to his ideas. Killian laughed at the sight. If anyone but David, Liam's own grandfather, had been the coach, he probably would have gotten pulled aside for taking matters upon himself.

Gods, he looked just like his namesake out on that field. The sight reminded Killian of another time when he was a lad and Liam had just been promoted to captain. Killian was still too young to join the king's navy, but Liam convinced the admiral he served that Killian would make an excellent cabin boy if he could just be allowed to accompany his brother. Thankfully, the admirable permitted it, taking pity on their situation and allowing the brothers to stay together. At first, the men of the ship were hesitant to respect Liam as captain. As navy men they were trained to follow orders and do as their captain commanded, but it was clear from the start that their hearts were not in it. Liam had been promoted at a young age and was one of the youngest captains in the fleet. Some of the men were resentful; others were doubtful of his abilities. Killian watched in amazement over the first few days of the voyage as Liam pulled members aside individually to give them orders. His voice was stern, but his nature and smile were genuine and caring. He had a way about him that made people respect his authority, but not fear him either. He was the perfect combination of stern but approachable. After just a week at sea, the men had all come around and were not just willing to listen to their captain, but were glad to follow wherever he led them, having full confidence in him as their leader.

Killian had spent so many years aching to have his brother back. As he stared out at the soccer field at the stubborn, authoritative, and caring boy with sea blue eyes and a lone dimple, he felt like his brother was here with him after all.

That night, as Killian was tucking Liam into bed as per their usual routine, he sat on the edge of his son's bed to chat. "You did a superb job at your soccer game today, son. I'm very proud of you. You remind me so much of your Uncle Liam. Did you know that?"

Liam shook his head before pausing and then turning to speak to his father. "Can you tell me about him sometime, Daddy? If it doesn't make you sad," he asked hesitantly clearly weary of hurting his father's feelings.

Killian smiled down at his son. "No lad, that wouldn't make me sad at all. That would make me very very happy."


End file.
